The Gift
by Leonaria Dragonbane
Summary: One Shot After a tragedy, someone is given a gift he can never repay.


The Gift

In the spirit of the season – and remembering I don't own him, though I wish I did at times, here is my Holiday Greetings to all of you.

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He sat on the branch, just watching. The kids were out, running and playing in the snow, throwing snowballs, making angels, and snowmen that looked suspiciously like they were wearing leather uniforms sporting a large X on the front. He came here every year, to watch them, to see a small ray of hope, but it was missing this year. The bright colored lights around the windows and covered entryway, the huge tree covered in lights and ornaments gleaming out the large picture window, the lighted wreath on the door, all of it said this was a time of peace and happiness, and the world be damned. He noticed one of the kids looking his way, and just smiled and waved.

He knew they'd be on alert, the adults streaming out of the building, their leather uniforms gleaming in the twilight, reflecting the bright holiday lights from their shiny surfaces. He just grinned and dropped down from the tree. The old man would tell them there was nothing to fear, it was the one time of the year he left them alone.

He climbed onto his bike and took off down the dirt road. As soon as he hit pavement he turned and headed into the city. Just because the Geeks took the holiday off, didn't mean he did. He had things to do. He noticed an old man walking along the side of the road, and something made him stop to offer him a ride.

"No thank you, it's not far." The man said with a smile.

"Its no trouble, I'm going that way anyway."

"My wife would certainly appreciate it, she says I spend too much time doing things myself, she's trying to talk me into retiring."

"Climb on, old man."

The old man's grip on his belt was tight and strong, and he grinned. "Where to?"

"Macy's, I do their Santa every year."

"Sure thing." He gunned the bike and took off. They hit city traffic, but he just wove between the cars and trucks, completely disregarding traffic laws or safety, as usual. He pulled up outside the store and let the old man off.

"And what about you, my friend, what would you like for Christmas?" The old man said with a merry twinkle in his eye.

"I don't worry about it."

"It's never good to be alone on Christmas."

"I've been alone my whole life, what's one day?"

"Surely there's something…?"

"Nothing that can be bought in a store." He said softly.

"Those are the best gifts of all." The old man said.

"Yeah. You better get to work, there's a line of kids outside the door." He grinned and revved the engine of the bike as he pulled away from the curb. He had a very special errand he had to take care of. He made one stop, and then carefully drove the bike through traffic; his cargo was precious this time.

He pulled up outside the building, the neon red cross on the side glowing in the dark.

"Visiting hours are almost over."

"I know, I am running late." He said softly, not wanting to disturb the other patients on the floor. "How's she doing?"

"Same – there's been no change." The nurse said as she left him alone. He unwrapped the plastic from the flowers he'd bought, and took the old ones out of the vase. They thought she was dead, but he'd found her, brought her here. She'd been in a coma for months. He looked down at her mahogany and white hair on the pillow.

He had no idea how she'd gotten in. The first time he saw her she'd been strapped into a burning truck, the Runt defending her, protecting her. Then the Geeks had shown up. The next time, she'd been his prisoner, her scent full of fear and hate, and he'd returned the hatred in full. They'd nearly killed her then, in that machine. But something changed, somewhere along the line, and when those robots had attacked, Brotherhood and X-Men working side by side to defeat them, she'd been hurt, they'd been pushed back, had to leave the wounded and dead, but he'd gone back, pulled out as many as he could. When he found her, something inside him had snapped. He'd carried her, not to the Geeks, but out, away from all of them. She deserved better.

"Hey, Darlin.'" He said softly, brushing his hand across her bare one. Nothing, no pull, no drain on his healing factor; if it wasn't for the light heartbeat and even fainter breath he wouldn't know she was alive at all…the EEG machine showed brain activity, so they wouldn't pull the plug, and he came every day.

"Nothin' new today. I brought you something." He set the snow globe on the table next to the bed. It was a music box, it played some song from some sad musical by that British producer, but the music was light, and he knew, if she were awake, she'd love it.

He gripped her hand, willing her to take his factor, drain him dry, but her hand was cool in his. He was going to have to talk to the nurses about an extra blanket. He didn't want her to be cold.

He knew, if she ever woke up, she'd leave him, go back to them – to HIM - the Runt, and he bit back the snarl as he thought about it. Right now, like this, she was his.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Creed, but you are going to have to leave." The nurse said as she came in the door. "Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, we have extended hours tomorrow, you can stay all night if you'd like."

"Thanks." He nodded. "Her hand was cool; I think she needs another blanket."

"I'll take care of it."

He slipped out the door, and glanced back as the nurse wound the music box again, and then started checking her vital signs. His eyes were burning, but he just turned and walked away.

The next morning he cleaned up, put on jeans and a clean sweater, and walked to the hospital. He planned on spending the whole day with his girl. Magneto was pissed, he hadn't given the human magnet any reason for leaving the Brotherhood, he'd just left. No one knew about her, and he was selfish, keeping it that way. He knew that the Geeks might be able to reach her – with their telepaths and advanced medical equipment, but he just didn't want to give her up yet. When the doctors gave up, wanted to pull the plug, then he'd take her to them. He wouldn't let her die, but for now, she was all his.

She'd never know, he'd seen to that, about his visits, his paying for her medical care, or the pain he felt every time he had to walk out of that room, without seeing her eyes – her beautiful green eyes.

They'd brushed her hair, and it was all wrong, he pulled the brush out and parted it correctly, stroking the bristles through her long wavy locks.

"I keep tellin' them, part it on the right. They don't listen." He whispered. He wound the music box, and sat in the chair next to the bed.

"I wish you'd wake up, Darlin' ya need ta wake up. It's almost Christmas; you don't want to miss Christmas." He remembered watching her – at Christmas time, at the mansion, laughing first with that Cyclops wanabe, Iceman, and then with the Runt. Running through the snow, throwing snowballs, being caught, and kissed; always quick, always pulling back before her skin would start to pull, but she was happy. He hadn't realized until this year why he would watch at Christmas. It wasn't the school – it wasn't the kids – it was her.

"Ahhh – my good Samaritan." Said a voice from the door, he looked over and saw his passenger from yesterday, decked out in red velvet and white fur.

"Well if it isn't Santa." He grinned.

"She's beautiful."

"That she is. What are you doing here?"

"I visit the children, on Christmas Eve; it's easier to get into the hospitals during the day."

Creed laughed. "I bet it is – no chimneys."

"Exactly. You take good care of her." Santa smiled warmly at him.

"I try."

"Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you too." The phrase felt strange in his mouth.

He held her hand through the day, wishing her mutation would wake up, wishing she'd take what she needed from him. He didn't want her to miss Christmas. The nurses came in like clockwork to check her vitals, move her in the bed so she didn't get sores, and change the IV. They made him leave, when they inserted the feeding tube, it always upset him; he'd nearly attacked one nurse the first time he'd witnessed it.

The day wore on, but he just sat there holding her hand and winding the music box. He wasn't going to leave her, not today. He felt himself getting sleepy, but wouldn't allow himself to doze off. He wanted to be awake if she woke up, even for a second. He knew he'd see hate in her eyes, but he'd at least get to see them.

He heard the nurses changing shift around ten o'clock that night, and knew his time was almost up. Two more hours and it would be Christmas, he gripped her hand tighter, begging her silently to drain him, and then not silently.

"Come on Darlin. It's almost midnight. Take it – take what you need, you don't want to miss this. It's your favorite day, all the laughter, the…" he choked on the word "love. You need it. Wake up, I'll call them, tell them where you are, you can be with them, if you just let your powers work, and take what you need ta heal. Please, Darlin." He hated himself, for begging, and what he did next made him choke – but he did it anyway.

"If you're listenin, she don't deserve this. I know I'm on your shit list, but she shouldn't be. If anyone deserves a miracle tonight, it's her. So, whatever it takes, I'm in, just let her wake up."

He closed his eyes, and let the feel of her hand in his be the only moment, the only thing worth feeling, and then he felt it, slight, almost not there, but her fingers tightened a bit, and he felt less, felt like a part of him was slowly leaking through his fingers. It got stronger, and then the pain hit, as the flood gates burst and she pulled everything he had to give.

He opened his eyes and black met green as her body pulled his life through his hand clenched around hers. He saw it then, the hate he'd expected, and just smiled. Everything was right with the world. Rogue hated him, and he'd saved her life. That thought crashed with him as his knees hit the floor, his fingers locked in a death grip around her hand. He wasn't letting go, he'd never let go. Her eyes drifted shut again.

His eyes were closing as he saw black leather boots with red velvet and white fur step into his line of sight.

"Not yet." He heard the soft whisper, and felt his fingers pried away from hers. "I told you the best gifts are not bought in stores."

Creed could hear the bells, ringing out midnight – and the dawning of Christmas morning. The boots stepped away, and just vanished. He shook his head, and pulled himself back into the chair. Her eyes were still closed, but her breathing was deep and steady, and her heartbeat was strong. He picked up the phone next to the bed and dialed a number.

"Xavier's." He recognized Storm's voice.

"Rogue's at St. Vincent's hospital." He whispered, and hung up the phone. He looked around the room. He got to see her eyes, and he'd see them, someday, across a battlefield; and they'd be filled with hate.

"Merry Christmas, Darlin." He whispered as he walked out the door. They'd come and get her, take her home, and he'd be alone, as always. He turned and walked to the elevator, and didn't look back. There was no place in her world for something as dark and ugly as him, it was time for him to go back into his world of shadows and hate. They'd meet again, and maybe next time she'd kill him.


End file.
